


Go go go

by fandomlimb



Category: SKAM (Norway), SKAM (TV)
Genre: Falling In Love, Flirting, In-Between Scenes, Isak's POV, Kissing, M/M, Missing Scene, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 04:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8519230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomlimb/pseuds/fandomlimb
Summary: Isak and Even scramble out of the pool and see where the night will take them. Time spans between pool scene (end of Ep 4) and cuddle scene (beginning of Ep 5). Told in first person, Isak's POV.Work is complete now! <3





	1. the getaway

“Mama! Mama!”

“Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Mama!”

“Go go go.”

This Kewpie Doll-looking girl is screaming her head off like she’s just seen Justin Bieber being dangled over a shark infested torture tank instead of us…instead of seeing what Even and I were just doing in her swimming pool.

My heart starts beating so fast I think I might blow a vital valve or maybe the whole damn organ. We scramble to get out ourselves of the water. I could be Michael Phelps I am moving so fast to get the hell out of here.

“Who the hell actually lives here?” I ask.

“Umm..someone I went to grade school with.”

Since Even is part gazelle he has already grabbed his discarded Halloween costume and heaved himself out the window but I am stuck dangling half-way like a total wiggling idiot, legs flopping uselessly behind me.

“Dude, help me out for chrissake!”

Even grabs my hands and pulls me up and out the window so we are face-to-face in the small alcove. The wet fabric of his t-shirt clings to his chest muscles and outlines the deep indent of his collarbones. He smiles and raises a questioning eyebrow and frigid night air hits my wet skin like a freeze-ray gun. I am a shivering mess and my insides start wrenching while he is standing there smiling, glowing even. Jesus Christ.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here before we’re arrested,” he says.

Even is already halfway down the yard to his bike. I bundle up the rest of my Julius Caesar costume bullshit under my arm while trying to run and put my shoes back on at the same time, which results in what probably looks like a flamingo's hopping mating dance ritual. Plus my socks are squishy and cold, the absolute worst feeling in the world ever invented to torture humankind. But for some reason I can’t stop laughing.

“I can’t fucking believe you.” I can’t keep the smile out of my voice as I gracelessly try to mount his bike’s rear rack while throwing on the rest of my idiotic costume.

The house’s front porch light suddenly flicks on and my stomach drops down to my ankles.

“Fuck! Someone’s there. Go go go go go!”

“You on ok?” Even asks.

“Just go already Jesus Christ it’s fucking freezing and that psycho girl is going to call her psycho mom and sic the police on us.”

His first push-off lurches us both forward and I grip his hips involuntarily to steady myself. An electric dart rockets through my body as I register the friction of his wet clothes against my palms and the steady rising and falling of his hips as his pedaling begins to pick up speed. A translucent layer of white fabric is all that separates me from his skin and I try to breathe without my teeth clattering so loud that they wake up all the neighborhood babies.

“You alright back there? See anyone? Do we need another getaway vehicle?” He whips his head around for a fraction of a second to meet my eyes and smiles. I look over my shoulder to make sure some crazy mom lady isn’t chasing after us with a cricket bat.

“Don’t see anyone thank fucking god. Jesus I almost had a heart attack. Where the hell are we going now?”

“Don’t know let’s just get out of here before they call the police and national coast guard.”

“Don’t even joke, what if they’d had alarms on their windows? Jesus freakin’ hell dude we could have gone to prison.”

“Not unless they had CCTV.”

“Fuck! CCTV. I hadn’t even thought of that. What if they had security cameras in the pool?”

“Then NIS is a bunch of pervs who like to watch dudes go skinny dipping.”

“We were not skinny dipping.”

“Yeah but you wanted to.”

It’s so cold out that I can’t believe I am actually blushing so badly.

“Yeah right," I say. "Swimming was your idea so I guess you are the perv then.”

“Anyway I knew there weren’t any alarms.”

“Oh yeah? And you knew miss Cabbage Patch girl from your babysitter days right?”

“Yes actually her name is Astrid.”

“Astrid.”

“Yeah and her sister’s name is Ingrid.”

“Ingrid.”

“And their brother’s name is Alf.”

“Astrid, Ingrid and Alf.”

“Yes Alf was in my grade school.”

“And where is Alf now?”

“I believe Alf is studying abroad in Albania.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“No Alf and I we were tight in grade 1. Bros for life.”

I grunt and shake my head in disbelief but am happy Even's back is to me so he can't see the idiotically goofy grin I can't shake off my face. We cruise for a while in silence. I look up at the abstracted red and orange patterns of leaves and streetlights and window lights streaming by like a kaleidoscope.

“Hold tight, we’ve got a big hill coming, don’t want you to fall off and break your gold crown.”

I hug him fully around the waist and brace for the descent. Even lets out a whoop as I press into him and feel the rush of gravity plunging us downhill.

When we reach the bottom, a shiver passes all the way through my body and Even stops the bike abruptly.

“Are you so cold?” he asks.

“No shit I’m cold it’s freezing.”

“Do you still want to go to the Halloween party?”

“Like this?”

“Well we could change clothes if you want.”

“I…ummm. I think I’d like to get warm first. Maybe go to my house and take a shower. Then we can go to the party.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [*my tumblr*](http://fandomlimb.tumblr.com/)


	2. a kiss is not a contract

The thing is, once you’ve kissed someone once, it’s no guarantee you’ll be able to kiss them again, right? A kiss is not a contract. Which sucks, because once you’ve had your tongue and lips and breath pressed on and in another person you’d think there’d be for sure a way to ascertain whether it was a fluke (whoops! didn’t mean to lure you just then into a total stranger’s pool and kiss you in the most heavenly fucking way imaginable) or if it was the best thing to ever happen to either of you. So even though 20 minutes ago Even was kissing me in the pool (it! was! real! it! happened! holy fuck it actually happened), kissing me like we were starving—no, kissing me like we are the last humans on earth after an alien invasion and the only way the aliens are going to let us live is if we prove to them that humans have one thing to offer their super advanced alien society, and that one thing we can teach them is how to kiss like our god damn species not only depends on it but also invented it, perfected it and turned it into a fucking art form—even after that god damn magical kiss I have been replaying in my head for the entire bike ride back I still have no idea what the fuck he’s thinking when we roll back up to my apartment.

I look up to the window and see that the lights are all out, which means Sonja and Emma must have gone on to the party without us and Eskild is probably out too. If Linn is home she’s probably in her cave of doom so that means that the coast should be clear inside. I let out a sigh of relief as Even crosses the street to lock up his bike. Then I feel my phone buzzing in my back pocket and my stomach sinks before I even look at it. I know full well that the texts will be from Emma and I am going to fully ignore them.

            _what the hell is wrong with you guys?_

_sonja is so pissed_

_as am i_

_fucking dick-move leaving us_

_HELLO??????_

I turn off my phone. Like off off. Not airplane mode, not vibrate only, not silent mode. Off. Good night. Adios. Probably the first time I’ve done that since I got the damn thing. It feels kind of weird but also a relief.

Even has finished locking his bike and crosses back over to me.

“All good?” he asks, probably because he saw me stash my phone away like a criminal.

“Yeah…I…I think my phone is bricked though. Must have got too much water in it from the pool.” Just saying the words “the pool” sets my cheeks burning, which is of course ridiculous, but I am a ridiculous person right now so what can you expect.

“Oh that sucks. I hear you can put it in rice for that?”

“Oh yeah. Right. The all mighty powers of rice can raise it from the dead.”

“Like a vampire?”

“Totally. We should get a priest up in here in case it comes back all demented after the rice.”

“Like you turn it on and all the texts say RED RUM or I VANT TO SUCK YOUR DICK.” He says the last part with a Transylvanian accent and I bust out laughing and cover my face with my hands and shake my head.

He takes a step closer to me. “And all your tinder messages will be from super horny ghosts and shit.”

“Dude I will need like a rice exorcism. Maybe we should get some holy water for me to dunk it in instead.”

“Totally. And get Linda Blair in here to kiss it better, it’ll be like new.”

The smile Even gives me then when our eyes meet hits me across all the pleasure centers in my body and helps answer one of my questions at least. I know we’ll be kissing again.

 

 


	3. CALL ME. NOW.

The first thing I see when I flick on the lights and we enter the apartment living room is that all the half-empty beer and wine bottles are exactly where we left them on the coffee table. As is Even’s blinking phone and a note from Sonja that just says “CALL ME. NOW.” Period not exclamation point. In thick black marker. Underlined about 25 times.

I say, “Umm…well…um I think I’m going to get in the shower. Um. Let me get you a change of clothes or something.”

What the hell was I thinking. Jesus I am delusional. Girlfriend. He has a girlfriend. A very beautiful, very pissed, very long-term girlfriend. I leave the living room as fast I can, my face burning with sudden embarrassment. Since my “closet” is more like an amorphous blob of clothes I grab the first sweatpants and tshirt I see from the "clean pile" that pass the smell test. I hesitate for a minute before going back out into the living room to try to hear if Even is on the phone or not. I don’t hear any conversation so I bring the clothes out to him. He’s sitting on the windowsill, looking out. His semitransparent white costume has picked up some of the glow of the yellow streetlights and club marquees outside. He has never looked more beautiful or lonely.

My breath catches before I speak.“Hey…so. Um. Yeah I’m going to take a shower. Here are some dry clothes. Sorry I think they’re clean but I’m not 100% sure. Umm you can take a shower after I’m done I’ll be really quick.”

I turn before I can even see how he responds. Seeing Sonja’s note there really fucked me up. I can’t think straight and I definitely can’t look at him or talk to him right now. I hope that while I’m in the shower he’ll call Sonja and sort whatever it is that needs to get sorted out. But part of me also doesn’t want him to talk to Sonja ever again and that makes me feel like shit.

I enter the bathroom and peel off all my clingy cold clothes and my spongy wet socks, which feels about as pleasant as it sounds.

When the rush of hot water hits my body I feel a wave of relief as my muscles relax a little bit. But then I realize that I am naked and Even is separated from my naked body by one unlocked door and one measly shower curtain. Crap. I am hard and know there is only one way I’ll be able to relax around him after I get out of the shower. When I’m done, I wash and scrub myself all over, turn off the water and just breathe in the steam for a minute. I tell myself to get a fucking grip. I feel better though. My heart rate at least is not fast enough to be considered near cardiac arrest levels. I wrap a towel around my waist and leave the bathroom. Even is still sitting in the windowsill. 

“Hey. Your turn.”

“Cool. Thanks.” He looks up at me. “You look hot, you know.”

“Um. Ok. Cool. Thanks. I mean. I’m going to get changed now. Are you hungry?”


	4. family recipe

I decide what I need right now is music. Even is in the shower and I am pacing around the kitchen opening all the cabinets and drawers and trying to figure out if there is actually anything edible in our kitchen. But since my iphone is “dead” that leaves Eskild’s old ipod with its questionable selection that he keeps on hand for impromptu kitchen dance parties. Fuck it. I plug the ipod into our portable speakers and scroll through his playlists with names like “Britney Bitch”, “Birthday Jamz”, “Kiki”, “Throw Down the Sick Beats”, “ROBYN!!!!” etc etc etc. I opt for one called “Soul Grooves”. I wish I hadn’t lied about my phone being bricked so I could play some of my own favorite hip-hop records but too late now. I am pleasantly surprised when Al Green’s smooth voice comes on, punctuated by staccato trumpets. Ok maybe Eskild has decent taste after all.

After the 25th time looking through the tumbleweed desert that is our pathetic pantry, I decide Ramen noodles and ice cream sundaes are probably the best and only options right now food-wise.

Back before my mom totally lost it and my dad peaced the fuck out, one of our favorite things to do together was to make chocolate fudge sundaes on Sunday nights. It was one of the only nights of the week where my dad wasn’t working late so it became like our only existing family ritual. This was back when I was a kid I mean. We haven’t made them together since I was probably 9 or 10 but I still have my mom's chocolate sauce recipe memorized. Eskild and Linn feel very luke warm about keeping food with actual nutritional value on hand in the collective but very strongly about ice cream and dessert so I know we have all the necessary ingredients.

 _Combine sugar, cocoa, and salt in a saucepan_  
_Add water and stir_  
_Add butter and stir until it melts_  
_Bring to boil and stir for 1 minute_  
_Add vanilla_  
_Serve warm over vanilla ice cream  
_ _Most important: wait to eat until the sauce has hardened on top of the melty ice cream_

The comforting smell of melting chocolate and butter starts to fill the kitchen and I am suddenly standing next to my mom stirring the chocolate sauce in my past life, listening to her quietly hum her favorite worships songs. At the same time I am starting to fucking cry in my present life and I quickly wipe my eyes and grab a beer from the fridge.

When I turn around I see Even leaning in the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed, looking at me. I don’t know how long he’s been there but I return immediately to the stove and hope to God he didn’t just see me crying. I also notice that the tshirt I gave him is actually Eskild’s and it has a big Jesus Christ icon on it, which is actually a little freaky considering all the crazy shit going on with my mom. But I decide not to think about it.

“Wow that smells amazing,” he says and comes closer to me by the stove, leaning nonchalantly against the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, thanks. I don’t like _cook_ or anything. This is like the only thing I know how to make. You’re not allergic to chocolate, right?”

“No way, thank god.”

“Ok good. Do you want a beer? I think they are Eskild’s but I will pay him back.”

“Sure thanks.”

“Sorry if my clothes smell I need to do the laundry this weekend.”

“No I don’t mind. I like it. You should make your own cologne line.”

“Yeah right. Eskild is always saying how bad my room smells.”

 “Well Eskild must not have properly working pheromones.”

I look up at him for the first time since he entered the kitchen and I want to be kissing him so bad it physically hurts. Instead I put all my attention back to stirring.

“Ok so this is just about done. I was also going to make some Ramen noodles but I’m not actually that hungry. Are you hungry? I had dinner before and the beer is enough plus I’m kind of sick of Ramen noodles. But if you’re hungry I can always--”

Suddenly Even’s lips are on mine and the taste and feel of him and the smell of the burning chocolate fills me with more hope than I’ve felt since my dad left my mom.


	5. if you ask i will say yes

We’re sitting on the couch, our empty ice cream sundae bowls stacked on the coffee table in front of us where our legs are now resting. Eskild’s “Soul Grooves” playlist is still coming through softly from the kitchen and I have a nice ice cream/beer/Even buzz coursing through my body. We are not talking but the silence is ok, welcome even. We keep looking at each other, as if looking could somehow transmit the signal _yes, you are what I want, don’t be afraid to touch me, if you ask I will say yes._

Our legs have been sort of touching the whole time we’ve been sitting here but I can start to feel an atmospheric shift coming on. He playfully rubs my thigh with his hand, gently at first, then more suggestively, with more pressure. I lay my head on his chest and wrap my arms around his stomach and just breathe there with him for a minute. My heartbeat has gone off. Left the building. Skyrocketed out of the stratosphere. I raise my eyes to meet his gaze. He smiles and then we are kissing again. His tongue is a force. I’ve never kissed a girl in this same way before. Never been kissed like this period. I straddle him and start moving. He grabs me around the hips. He keeps kissing me and I feel consumed and overwhelmed as our hips start to move in rhythm together. Oh god why does he feel so good.

I like him so much.  
I like this humming vibration coursing through my body.  
I like that he tastes like alcohol, smoke and chocolate.  
I like the soft fullness of his lips and the rough scratchiness of his chin.

He pulls off my shirt and then his own. I just want to marvel at him like he’s a sculpture in a museum but I also don’t want to come off as a total psycho. He has a geometric pattern tattooed on the right side of his oblique muscles. I want to ask what it means but I don’t want to stop what we’re doing. I kiss his neck and then make a map of kisses all the way around his jaw line. I bite his ear lobes. He moans and smiles up at me. He grazes his lips across my nipples and I basically combust.

He is normally chatty, but now he is quiet, focused. I’m a little unnerved by the intensity.

His fingers move to the top button of my jeans and I freeze.

I hate to ask but I have to.

“What about Sonja?”

 


	6. keep holding

Record scratch.

But not in the good “retro DJ using actual vinyl records to create pressure-based rhythmic noises to emphasize the sickness of the beat he/she is currently spinning out to a pumped crowd” kind of way. Record scratch as in air sucked out of room/throwing water in someone’s face/slapping someone’s wrist/WTF dude why did you say the one thing to the boy you were just kissing like a lunatic to make him least likely to ever want to kiss you ever again kind of way. You know, the kind of way that makes you regret opening your mouth the second you hear the words tumbling out.

“What about her?”

“I just mean. Did you call her?”

“Do you want me to call her?”

“Well. Not exactly. I just mean. She’s probably worried about you, right? We just left them for no reason. Kind of a dick-move.” I think of all of Emma’s text messages that will go unanswered.

“She’s not my keeper. And I’m not hers.”

Even looks away from me and is silent for far too long for me to still feel like sitting half-naked on top of him is a good idea anymore. I climb off and put my shirt back on. He pulls his on as well and moves over to the windowsill. As far away from me as possible. Fuck I am an idiot.

More silence. I pick at a little tear in the knee of my jeans. I pick at a stain on the arm of the sofa. I pick at my nails. I pick and pick and look anywhere in the room but at Even.

Words keep trying to rise to the surface but die instantly the minute they are asked to form a coherent sentence. I can’t seem to explain to him that I want to keep kissing him more than anything right now and that present-me is shooting myself in the foot for the hope of future-me maybe having a boyfriend who doesn’t also have a girlfriend? If that’s not too much to ask? I mean, I know it’s too early for me to even start thinking of Even as my boyfriend. And not that I want a boyfriend because boys who date boys and kiss boys and have boyfriends are gay and I don’t know if that’s what I am or what I want to be. What I do want is for Even to laugh with me and kiss me, to eviscerate me with one of his cocky eyebrow raises and the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. I want to feel every inch of his long lean body with my hands and lips and tongue. I want to worship him. I want to be able to call him mine. So, yeah, maybe actually I do want him to be my boyfriend after all.

But I can’t say any of that. And I know that it doesn’t feel right to keep kissing him knowing that Sonja also cares about him and is probably worried about him. If he’s drinking too much, if he’s safe, where he is, who he’s with.

“Me and Sonja – I know it is the ultimate facebook cliché. But it’s complicated. It's been complicated for far too long now."

“Ok.”

“I didn’t call her. But I texted. I told her I didn’t feel like going to the party, drinking wasn’t…wasn’t mixing well with…just I felt kind of sick. But I said I’m ok and she should have a good time without me.”

“What did she say?”

“She said we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“That’s it?”

“Should I have told her the truth?”

I can’t answer him. Not with words anyway. So I stand up and walk over to the windowsill. I sit next to him. I take his hand in mine. We both look out onto the street below. Partygoers in their obnoxious Halloween costumes stagger by in packs. People filled with high expectations about the night to come: the pulsing dance beats, the adrenaline, the mix of sweat and alcohol and smoke, the sensation of tasting and touching and kissing someone totally new, maybe for the first and last time all in the span of a few hours. I don’t want to be any of those people right now. I want to be exactly where I am, sitting next to the boy I am hopelessly falling for. So I hold his hand and keep holding.


	7. matching hearts

Happiness is this strange ungraspable indescribable thing. I am so happy that I have to really focus on my breathing or I might start to cry. I can’t even trace how I got here, trace all the threads that led to this moment where Even and I are in my bed and my heart is so full and also so hungry that I don’t think I’ll be able to make it through the night without devouring him.

We’re in my bed. His body is pressing down on top of me. His face is hidden, buried in my pillow, and I am massaging his back under his (Eskild’s !!) tshirt, digging as hard as I can. I can feel the muscles give under the weight of my fingers moving in heavy circles. I trace designs with my fingernails: figure eights around his shoulder blades, spirals down his spine, even our initials I and E, even though it is the most pathetic thing I have ever done. I don’t care. I want to leave my mark on him as if my fingernails left a trail of black tattoo ink behind them. His skin is smooth almost like a girl’s except for certain parts where I realize ecstatically that no girl I’ve touched has ever felt quite like that. Soft in places: his lips, neck, ear lobes, the small of his low back. Hard in others: his chest muscles, stomach and arms, the cut of his jaw, his dick. Fuck. I need to calm down.

Even notices that I’ve stopped massaging him and let’s be real, that I’ve stopped breathing entirely. He lifts his head and meets my eyes.

“You ok?” he asks and smiles.

“Umm yeah, give me a sec.”

“It’s ok,” he says. “Are you still nervous being with me?”

I can’t meet his eyes. I can’t answer him.

“It’s ok.” He rubs his nose against mine and kisses me. This does not help the current situation.

“Want to match breathing?” he asks.

“Match breathing?”

“Yeah, I’m going to put my ear on your heart and listen to your heartbeat to see if we can match each others, ok?”

“Ok.”

Knowing that Even will be able to hear and feel how crazy hard my heart is beating at first makes me even more nervous and I’m sure he’ll know how scared I am and that makes my heartbeat even faster, which is ironic since the whole point is to try to get me to calm the fuck down. But he doesn’t say anything or tease me. He just lays his head on my chest and takes a deep breathe. I do the same. He runs his hand through my hair and traces his fingers down my chin and across my lips.  
  
I breathe.  
He breathes.  
We breathe.

I breathe.  
He breathes.  
We breathe.

I breathe.  
He breathes.  
We breathe.

We breathe.  
We breathe.  
We breathe.

I shut my eyes and try to listen, really listen, to our heartbeats as they slowly start to synchronize. It's like putting your ear to a conch shell and hearing the echo and hum of a magical seashore that exists only for you. I’m so happy I actually do cry a little. But I don’t think he notices because when he sighs I sneak my eyes open and see that his eyes are closed now too.


	8. "dreamers often lie"

I am invisible-paragliding over the fjords in Rogaland at dusk. It is absolutely beautiful. I am thousands of meters above a sparkling river and green mountain range; the sky is an enormous bucket of ice cream sherbet. The wind is whipping through my hair and making my eyes sting and making my cheeks burn (but all in a good way). I stretch out my arms and remember that I’m holding a waffle cone filled with lemon-lime frozen custard. Score. I didn’t notice that a second ago but I take a big lick now and wow!! It is really cold and delicious, tangy and not too sweet.

If you don’t know what invisible-paragliding is then let me explain because it takes a second to get used to. But once you’ve got the hang of it it’s absolutely amazing! I am strapped into my invisible harness; invisible suspension lines keep me tethered to the large invisible sail that billows out behind me and keeps me buoyant and winging over the treetops like it’s nbd.

At first it is a little scary; you have to trust that you are actually strapped in because for all intents and purposes you are flying totally unfettered and free-falling through the air at top speed and could crash and die at any minute!! But if you feel the heft and weight of the invisible-paragliding paraphernalia and learn the proper steering technique (basically you stick your arm out in the direction you want to go) you realize there’s nothing to worry about. You are safe.

I think about heading back down to the ground and I am now a giant like you are when a plane is making its descent and all the cars look like toy cars and you can literally stomp out entire towns and crush thousands of people if you are not super careful. So I’m super careful. I try not to mow down any of the rows of broccoli trees or unsuspecting villagers who are all probably eating dinner or chilling out and not in the mood to get crushed to death while watching reality television.

I make a super smooth landing (I am really good at invisible-paragliding). No need to unbuckle out of the harness because it actually doesn’t exist! It is kind of tricky like that.

I am in a big ass field now. When I look up I see that the sky is alive like a jar filled with fireflies. It is dark and I’m alone but I’m not afraid of the far away galaxies that blink and shoot and swirl above my head. It is like the most high-def Hubble telescope photo you’ve ever seen but enormous and pulsating. I lie down on the grass and the moon starts spinning like a disco ball.

And I’m not actually alone because Even is lying next to me. I forgot a minute ago when I was describing how to invisible-paraglide but he’s actually been here the whole time. He was the one that gave me pointers on how to descend without stomping on everyone. The invisible harness is usually made for one, but it _can_ fit two if you kind of spoon while you are strapped in; it’s kind of embarrassing but I didn’t mind when Even was wrapped tight with his arms around my waist and we were for real 100% flying and snuggling at the same time. He kept nuzzling my neck from behind. I don’t know why I forgot to tell you that before.

The disco ball moon spins above us and this makes Even want to dance. This is a problem because I don’t really dance. I mean, I can sort of nod my head and bop around like most white guys. So I ask him, can we dance lying down instead? He starts laughing. Like really busting a gut! His teeth are glowing like we are in a rave with black lights. Then something kind of weird(ish) happens – Even partially leaves his body like a ghost and so now there are two Evens, both at like 50% opacity but still solid because Even One is still lying next to me and our fingers are entwined (this is the first time I’ve held hands with a guy). Even Two decides he wants to go out and party. He wants to find a hip-hop club and enter a rap battle contest. He asks if I want to join him?

Am I afraid of epically losing the battle and getting totally humiliated and beat up in a sinister back alley because my flow was less than sick? Yes. Am I afraid that if I don’t join him he’ll think I’m the lamest lame that ever lamed? Also Yes.

Can I split myself in two like he did?

I try but just end up scrunching up my face and grunting. Even One is still smiling super neon bright at me and says my name one hundred times over and over, he whispers it in my ear, shouts it into my belly button, kisses it into my mouth. I love to hear him say it. I love kissing him (!!!).

Even Two is half-way across the field, maybe a whole football field’s distance away already. I want to get up and chase after him but I don’t want to hurt Even One’s feelings. My phone starts buzzing like crazy in my pocket so I take it out. I apologize to Even One and see that I have 561 notifications. No, 789. Actually it’s more like 124 but they are all from my Biology teacher. They are actually titty pics. Shit so grossssssssss. Why would she do that to me? That has to be illegal. I decide to chuck the phone as far as possible. So I throw it at Even Two.

“Head’s up!”

The phone goes soaring across the field and turns into a bird.

I turn back to Even One. Then I recite to him the most amazing rap I’ve ever written. A rap that is also a sonnet and also about two boys holding their breath under water. And about an unending spool of paper towels. And also about a sunny afternoon sitting on a windowsill listening for the hum of each other’s heartbeats. There’s also a good line in there about Captain America doing a trust fall exercise with Leonardo Dicaprio but it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense out of context. I wish I could remember it all to tell it to you right now. I would win some Shakespeare Laureate Nobel Prize MTV Award type thing. 

Even has been quiet during my rap. He’s looking up at the stars and the moon and the planets and the Milky Way and the unimaginable _everything_.

“Let’s be nothing for awhile,” Even One says.

“I don’t know how.”

“I’ll show you.”

He takes off all his clothes. I take off mine. He kisses me and I taste infinity.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the youtube vid i watched for paragliding inspiration!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=unekdovqH50


	9. 23:59

I wake up with a start as a tremor runs through my body; I feel for a split second like I’m an astronaut being forcibly ejected from his space shuttle (possibly by an evil rival astronaut played by Matt Damon) without one of those useful chord things that keep you from floating away into oblivion forever bye bye nice knowing you universe. I realize three things instantly upon waking: 1. I am nestled into the crook of Even’s chest and shoulder and he smells absolutely incredible 2. Under my lips on Even’s tshirt is a semi-wet spot, which means I must have drooled on him a little in my sleep and I pray to all the gods I don’t really believe in that he hasn’t noticed (I mean drool?! on the most beautiful boy I’ve ever met?? really?!!) 3. I have a wake-up boner.

“Halla Sleeping Beauty”, Even says and rustles my hair, which means I can’t really be mad at him for just calling me a princess.

“Ha ha. How long have I been out for?” There is still the drool situation to deal with so I try to sneakily wipe my mouth and rub my eyes without looking up at him quite yet. I bet dying from mortification is a proven medical condition but I’d like to prolong my own demise for as long as possible since Even is in my bed and I still can’t really believe it.

“Probably about half an hour.”

“Wow, sorry. I haven’t been sleeping so great recently. What time is it?”

“Um let me see.” He fishes his iphone out of his pants pocket. “23:59. Now I have to wonder if your bed will turn into a pumpkin at midnight.”

“Pumpkin?”

“You know, Cinderella? Her carriage.”

“Ok, call me a Disney princess once and I’ll let it slide, call me one twice and you’re dead.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Totally dead.” I reach up to him and grab his tshirt and pull him close so we are nose to nose.

“Though if we are comparing you to Disney characters I’d say you are actually more like Bambi.”

“Bambi? A fucking baby deer??! Are you kidding me?”

“It’s just those doe eyes of yours, so innocent.”

“I’m not fucking innocent.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well prove it.”

I’m straddling him now, still grabbing his tshirt, and all I can see is his beautiful teasing smile and his perfect lips I want to kiss forever and the long slope of his neck I want to bite and all his gravity-defying hair I want to grab and run my fingers through and tussle up.

“You want me to prove it?”

He raises an eyebrow and smiles up at me and I realize I’ve never wanted anyone so badly my entire life. I don’t quite know what to do with that information yet but I want to find out.

I slowly and gently rub my lips over his but don’t kiss him. Not yet. I kiss his closed eyelids and feather-brush my cheek against his. I kiss his ear and suddenly remember the dream I just had.

“I was just dreaming about you,” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

I bite his earlobe.

“Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“We were flying together.”

“Flying?”

I kiss the soft spot behind his ear and start making my way down his neck.

“Yeah.”

“And when we landed we were in a big open field under an insane _Cosmos_ -looking sky.”

I am attacking his collar bone with kisses.

“And then my bio teacher sexted me a pic of her boobs.”

“What??!”

He buries his head in my neck and starts howling. I lose it too.

“We need to get a dream interpreter up in here to unpack that shit,” he says and pulls me in for a kiss. “Super Freudian situation going on.”

“Hey I’m the one who had to see it, my own brain scarred itself for life.”

“So you’re into the whole Mrs. Robinson thing?”

“The what?”

“You’re kidding me? _The Graduate_? Jeez we need to start your cinema education like yesterday.”

“Oh I knew what that meant I just forgot for a second. And luckily for you I don’t like older women.”

“What about older men?”

“How much older?”

“Two years?”

“Yeah, those I like.”


	10. Love is a two way dream

It is 1:30 AM. Even is big spooning me while we watch a compilation of music videos on youtube by Michel Gondry, one of Even’s favorite directors. (I didn’t ask him what happened to topple Baz Lurhmann off his #1 favorite director pedestal because that would have given away the fact that I internet-stalked the fuck out of him and I have his interview from Elvebakken practically memorized and thank god I cleared my laptop’s browser history when he was in the bathroom). I’d seen Kanye’s _Heard ‘Em Say_ video but that’s about it and Even insisted he wouldn’t kiss anyone who had never seen these White Stripes/Bjork/Radiohead videos or worst yet never seen _Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,_ which I guess to Even is a full on crime against humanity and worthy of a make-out embargo.

We’ve also been smoking what’s left of my share of the group hash stash and I have to admit these videos ARE FUCKING TRIPPY (and also amazing) and making my brain feel like a dance club garbled in a blender with 70s home videos and _Pompel Og Pilt_ (do yourself a favor and google it, especially when you are stoned).

“This next one, _Fell in Love with a Girl_? It’s made all with fucking legos.”

“Spoiler alert.”

“Shush you,” he says and nips the back of my neck and my ear before settling in to watch the video.

 _“Fell in love with a girl_  
_fell in love once and almost completely_  
_she's in love with the world_  
_but sometimes these feelings_  
_can be so misleading_  
_she turns and says are you alright?_  
_I said I must be fine cause my heart's still beating_  
_come and kiss me by the riverside,_  
_bobby says it's fine he don't consider it cheating_

 _Red hair with a curl_  
_mellow roll for the flavor_  
_and the eyes were peeping_  
_can't keep away from the girl_  
_these two sides of my brain_  
_need to have a meeting_  
_can't think of anything to do_  
_my left brain knows that_  
_all love is fleeting_

 _she's just looking for something new_  
_and I said it once before_  
_but it bears repeating now_ ”

“Just look at how detailed every frame is and how many hours and hours it took to build all these lego sets and make this whole story come to life for only like two perfect minutes of music. Like now everything in movies is CGI’d to death and here is this idea that the same things you did as a kid, like building legos and making stupid stuff with your hands and using your imagination…that’s the same thing inside you that makes you want to make art and fall in love and see crazy shapes and patterns and colors in the world around you. It’s this way for you to go back in time to before your parents fucked you up or the world fucked you up or your own head did. Like when you are a kid you could just smash action figures together for hours and make explosion noises with your mouth but in your imagination it’s this crazy epic battle scene. And no one has made you feel yet that what’s in your head is…is worse or less valid than what’s outside it.”

“Wow. You’ve thought a lot about this video.”

“It made me want to make my first stop-motion animation.”

“I think I know what you mean though. About being a kid. Like…when you were little did you ever just hide under a table when your parents were having a party or just having their friends over for dinner or whatever and you’d be like spying on them for no reason but it was the most intense thing because you had no idea what being a grown up meant really? They were probably drunk and talking about the most boring shit but since you were a kid you didn’t realize that yet. It just felt like you were from a different planet as them.”

“And now?”

“Well actually my parents still feel like they are on a different fucking planet from me.”

“But no more hiding under tables?”

“Nah I had to retire my P.I. badge. What was your first stop-motion movie about?”

“It was a claymation Christmas massacre.”

“Dude.”

“I wanted it to be like those old school puppet Christmas movies except Rudolph and Santa get attacked by hobgoblins and trolls and all the kids turn into headless ghosts as soon as they open their presents.”

“Why do you hate Christmas so much?”

“Let’s just say I went through a bit of an angsty phase.”

“Can I see them? Your movies?”

“Yah sure. They’re not online or anything though. So the big premiere will have to wait. Ok, this next one? Bjork’s _Bachelorette_? I could literally write an entire thesis on this video. It’s like one of those Russian nesting dolls with this epic meta story-within-a-story-within-a-story. Check it out.”

 _“I'm a fountain of blood_  
_In the shape of a girl_  
_You're the bird on the brim_  
_Hypnotized by the Whirl_

 _Drink me, make me feel real_  
_Wet your beak in the stream_  
_Game we're playing is life_  
_Love is a two way dream_

 _I'm a path of cinders_  
_Burning under your feet_  
_You're the one who walks me_  
_I'm your one way street_

 _I'm a whisper in water_  
_Secret for you to hear_  
_You are the one who grows distant_  
_When I beckon you near_

 _I'm a tree that grows hearts_  
_One for each that you take_  
_You're the intruder hand_  
_I'm the branch that you break_ ”

He jumps right back into his mile-a-minute analysis after the video is done (meanwhile my brain still feels like an enormous hot air balloon from all the weed and crazy images kaleidoscoping through my brain).

“At the start the book of her life starts writing itself…so does that mean everything is left up to fate or can you be the director of your own life? And what are the limits of self-expression across different mediums – because the story in the book is different from the story on stage and the play-within-a-play, just like how Bjork the person in real life is probably totally different from what we know of her as a celebrity figure. Like, can you choose which version of yourself you want to present to the world? Or is your identity already decided for you by fate or genetics or DNA? And what about love and relationships? When you fall in love with someone how can you ever actually know the true them or vice versa? Do you just fall in love with the idea of the person? Or the idea of falling in love?”

“I love how excited you get talking about this stuff.”

“Yeah that’s my OCD coming out a bit.”

“I bet you are going to make amazing epic stories one day too.”

“Ha we’ll see.”

“No really. I can tell how crazy you are about this stuff, like with that Captain America thing it was funny but I could tell you were also trying to tell a big story with it too.”

“What Captain America thing?”

Shit. Fuck. 911! Red alert! Man down! My cheeks are suddenly flaming brush-fire red and I have to nestle my face further down into my sheets so Even can’t see me involuntarily cringing.

“I ummm…I dunno didn’t you make a movie with like Captain America and Sarah Palin?”

“Yah…but I don’t think I ever told you about it.”

“Well I might have seen it.”

“And how exactly did you see it?”

Maybe if I don’t answer this will go away.

“Are you suddenly a clairvoyant? Did you see a palm reader about me?”

“Ok fine I googled you.”

“You googled me?”

“And there was this…this school interview from Elvebakken?”

I can’t believe this is happening. I am literally withering away from mortification little by little as each second passes. I need to start writing my own eulogy because I am never going to live this down.

“You little stalker. Admit it. You are totally obsessed with me.”

He turns me over so we are now face to face but I can’t meet his eyes yet.

I say to my pillow, “No it’s just, like who doesn’t have an instagram or facebook? I mean you are like friggin’ Bruce Wayne trying to hide your true identity or something.”

“Maybe I am. And that’s why you can’t stop thinking about me. So you liked my movie, huh?”

“Yeah I liked it.”

He starts kissing me all over my medical grade fever level face.

“What else do you like about me, Mr. Robot hacker stalker guy?”

“…...” (That is the sound of my eyes rolling and my smile breaking and heart exploding at the same time).

“Do you like when I do this?”

He nibbles my earlobe and exhales before whispering right into my ear.

“And this?”

He makes a slow circle with his tongue all over every crevice of my ear.

“…..” (That is the sound of my gasp as goosebumps erupt all down my whole body).

“What about this?”

He unzips my sweatshirt and teases his hand under my tshirt. He caresses my stomach and chest with the rough pads of his fingertips before switching to his nails and lightly scratching a slow line down from my neck all the way to my hip bones.

“Admit it. Admit you like it.”

“Ok fine. Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes I like that.”

“Good because I’m not going to stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Fell in Love with a Girl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=suysuNDharU)
> 
> [Bachelorette](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5nNfbTS6N4)
> 
> [Pompel og pilt](https://www.google.com/search?q=Pompel+Og+Pilt&oq=Pompel+Og+Pilt&aqs=chrome..69i57j0l5.174j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8#q=Pompel+Og+Pilt&tbm=vid)


	11. Good morn

At some point during my music video education binge-watching boot camp I must have dozed off to sleep but I don’t remember when. But right now Even is coaxing me back to wakefulness with a swell of kisses against the back of my neck and the pressure of his body hugging insistently into mine. My eyes are point-blank rejecting the idea of opening yet (or ever again) but when I force myself to squint them open I see blearily that my room is still dark except for the eerie blue-white glow of my laptop screen. I am both disoriented and getting turned on at the same time, a kind of odd but not unwelcome feeling.

“Good morn,” he whispers into my ear with a little tickle.

“What time is it?” I ask through the fog-level density of my morning brain.

“It’s still early about 6:30 AM.”

“Fy faen dude, can’t you sleep?”

“I have an idea. Let’s watch the sunrise.”

“Ermm…I’m still sleeping…”

He is running his hands all through my hair and moving his body in gentle rhythm against my back and hips. I shut my eyes again and enjoy the surge of blood and warmth that is now coursing through me as Even runs a hand down my arm and places it firmly on my hip while kissing and nuzzling my neck and shoulder blades. I’m definitely awake now but want to stay in this half-dream state for as long as I can.

“Can’t we sleep a little more? Isn’t sunrise still late this time of year?”

“I want to take you somewhere special to me. It’s a bit of a hike though.”

“Where?”

“It’ll be a surprise. Let me make some coffee then we can go.”

“I don’t really drink coffee this early...”

“Maybe there’s something else I can do to wake you up.”

“Hmmmm…I’m dead though…”

He turns me around to face him and begins kissing me back to life.

* * *

About an hour later we are lacing up our shoes and zipping up our sweatshirts and trying to exit the apartment as quietly as possible so we don’t wake up Eskild, Noora or Linn. I doubt they will be up until the afternoon anyway but running into them at 7:30 AM with Even in tow is not something I am at all keen on happening (or explaining). Luckily there are two doors to our apartment so we can easily slip out the back door without passing by anyone’s bedroom.

We step out into the dark street still illuminated by street lamps; the spell of blue pre-dawn muffles my normally loud and bustling neighborhood. Some shops are open and there are a few post-all-night-partiers dragging their semi-drunk/semi-hungover selves home but it is mostly quiet and peaceful. The immediate blast of cool morning air shakes away any of my remaining grogginess and I’m actually happy to be out with Even at this ungodly hour.

“Let’s head toward the river walk.”

The Akerselva river walk snakes through Oslo and is pretty I guess but to be honest I hardly ever pay attention to it or any of the other landmarks of my city (except for school field trips and stuff). There’s always schoolwork to think about or parties or friends to keep me occupied. But I think that’s pretty normal for most city-dwellers. You carve out a little space for yourself, otherwise it can be overwhelming thinking about the thousands and thousands of strangers pressing in around you and breathing the same air, walking the same streets, living out births and deaths and joy and heartbreak all at the same time.

We walk for a few minutes until we reach the tree-lined river walk.

Even pauses and pulls out a spare joint and cigarette lighter.

“Let’s sit down for a sec. God it’s beautiful out this morning. Don’t you just love this?”

A flash of orange from his lighter casts a warm glow over his face and highlights the unreal angles of his cheekbones and the pout of his perfect lips. He takes a long drag and offers me the joint. We sit on a nearby bench; our legs brush up against each others in a way that makes me never want to stop smiling.

“So you’re a "wake and bake"-er, huh?” I ask before taking a long inhale myself. I pause before exhaling and enjoy the nearly immediate hum that bounces around my brain and veins.

“Breakfast of champions. I mean, it comes and goes though. Right now it feels right, you know?”

“Sure.”

“Look at this fucking water. It’s so fucking still right now. Look at the reflection of those trees. Wow.”

He takes another drag before continuing.

“I love the idea that if you’re looking at a reflection in a creek or something, your eye immediately catches on one detail and you focus on that for a second. And then with just a slight shift of your eyes, you can see the whole upside-down picture and it’s like a world that wasn’t there before until you learned to see it the right way. I also think sometimes that if the reflection is just right, like a perfect skyline and trees, and there’s absolutely no movement on the water, that if I jumped into the water I’d fall straight through into that world, instead of landing head first onto rocks or whatever happens to be floating by. Kind of like _Alice Through the Looking Glass_ , did you ever read that? _Alice in Wonderland_ gave me nightmares as a kid, but now I’d probably like it because all of the drug tripping stuff that I totally missed as a kid.”

“I never read those," I say. "But I think I know what you mean. Isn’t it funny all the stuff you just totally got wrong as a kid? Like…this is kind of embarrassing but when I was a kid I thought if I ever got married my wife would murder me with like a kitchen knife or by smacking me with a frying pan. I must have seen it in a movie.”

“Or maybe that was your child self telling you you liked boys.”

I blush badly and start hacking out all the smoke I’d just been expertly holding in my lungs. I want to argue but I mean…he actually has a point?

“Ok let’s keep going.”

He stubs out the joint, sticks the remaining half of it behind his ear and stands all in one smooth motion. He turns to me and walks backwards a few paces with his hands in his jacket pockets like he’s the fucking James Dean of Oslo.

“And don’t worry, when we get married I’ll hide all the butcher knives.”


	12. Uphill stretch

“Ok, nearly there,” Even says as we exit the river walk at Kuba Park and cross onto a narrow residential street. The color of the sky is beginning to almost imperceptibly shift from an inky blue-black to a lighter shade (I don’t know all the other fancy words for blue but it is like the color of the crazy expensive necklace the old woman dumps off the side of the boat in _Titanic_ ). Through a window I quickly glance a man in a bathrobe holding a baby in his arms; he has dark bags under his eyes, stubble on his chin, and his hair is sticking up all crazy but he looks peaceful at the same time.

“This last stretch is a bit uphill. Are you up for a race?” Even asks, snapping me out of my Peeping Tom moment with one of his patented eyebrow raises. I’ll have none of it.

“Am _I_ up for it? You know I’ve played football since I was five, right? I’m the champion of running up hills.”

“Oh yeah? Well we’re going to have to really run if we’re going to beat the sun now. We’ve probably got less than 10 minutes before sunrise.”

“Ok. You’re on.”

“You sure? Are you ready to have me go all Usain Bolt on you?”

“Not only am I ready but I’ll give you a very generous 15 second head start because I’ve got trainers on and you don’t.”

“Ok. Though the handicap is totally unnecessary.”

We both start stretching our arms and legs a bit (mostly for show). Even rolls his long neck from side to side, revealing a smattering of red marks up and down his neck; the aftershocks from our night together. I hate to admit it, but I am kind of proud of this and I want to immediately start kissing him all over his neck again and again. But not before I totally smash him in this race.

“This is your last chance to bow out now and save face before I totally cream you.”

“Yeah we’ll see.”

“Ok ready? On your mark—”

“Get set—”

“Go!”

Even and his damn giraffe legs are off in a flash. I count to 15 then lunge forward with all my strength. It takes me several clunky paces for my legs to shake out the lingering effects of cold morning air mixed with the THC still floating through my system that makes every movement go a little slower and more Tin Woodsman-like than usual. I can’t believe he is actually beating me! I take a deep breath as my heart rate starts to catch up with the rest of my body and adrenaline starts to flow. There is no way I am letting him beat me. No. Effing. Way. I do what I do whenever I am running for speed: I set my eyes to the fixed end goal ahead of me on the far-off horizon. I turn off my brain, concentrate on my breath, and let everything else around me slip away into a blurry haze.

I am gaining on him finally. I have this in the bag. I catch up to him and reach out to grab the arm of his jacket. He bats me away.

“Hey no interference! Someone call the ref!”

He surges forward and I match him step for step. The top of the hill is nearly upon us and I laser-eye my focus on a traffic barrier ahead that looks to be the same size as a standard track hurdle.

I am going to jump the shit out of it.

I put all my attention into building up momentum and speed and letting go any doubt that when I reach the barrier I will simply fly over it.

And that’s exactly what I do.

“Now that was just showing off,” Even says between labored breaths as he meets me at the top of the hill. “But I admit it was pretty fucking hot.”

I can’t help but smile. Yeah I knew exactly what I was doing.

“So what is my reward for winning?” I ask.

My heart is still hammering and my cheeks flood with heat as Even grabs me by the jacket and pulls me into a long breathless kiss.


	13. Old Aker Church

We walk for a minute in silence as my heart rate starts to normalize (who am I kidding, as if anything approximating a normal heart rate were actually possible when I am within five feet of Even). When we round a corner I see a church steeple peeking out through the treetops and I know instinctively that this is where Even has been leading me.

We’ve arrived at _Gamle Aker_ _kirke_ , Oslo’s oldest standing church and building.

“Well here we are. Have you been here before?” he asks.

“Wow yeah I’ve been here but not since I was probably 10? We visited here on a class trip. Didn’t the Vikings originally make this? Are we going inside?”

“Not inside, no. I don’t think it’s open yet for visitors. I want to show you the best fucking view in Oslo.”

“Are we actually allowed to be here right now? For real this time, not like the pool? You’re not going to suggest we hop this gate or anything?”

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t set you up to get arrested twice in less than 24 hours. That would just be mean of me. Really though, the gate is always open. Come with me.”

We pass through the entryway into to the church grounds. A thin layer of pre-dawn frost coats the grass and tree branches with a dusty shimmer. I don’t see anything strange around us but I still get a little prickle of goose bumps down my arms and back of my neck. It’s not that the church itself is creepy, but it feels like we are entering hallowed grounds.

Even leads me to the back of the church to its adjacent rear graveyard. We pass by what seems like hundreds of weather-beaten gravestones and I try to be careful not to step on any plot of grass directly in front or behind of any grave marker out of old superstitious habit (yes I’ve seen one too many horror movies where someone’s unsuspecting foot gets grabbed by a ravenous zombie/vampire/whatever monster erupting out of a freshly dug grave).

We reach the edge of the grounds and I see exactly why Even wanted to bring me here.

He’s right. The view is breathtaking.

From this vantage point Oslo stretches out before us as if we were sitting in the top level of a double-decker bus. A thin band of sunlight cracks open the sky and bleeds warmth into the blue horizon.

“Wow.”

“Wow.”

“Perfect timing,” he says. “Am I good or what?”

In front of us sits a weatherworn stone statue of a woman crouching beside a small child who looks to be toddler-aged. Time has washed away their expressions but you can tell by the way their heads are resting and by the way the woman’s arms are draped around the child’s shoulders that the statue was crafted out of love. My arms erupt in goose bumps again as I try to think of anything but my own mom. I don’t ask Even whether or not the statue is a gravestone.

“How did you know about this view back here?” I ask him instead.

“Elvebakken is about 10 minutes from here. I used to walk this way sometimes on my way to school.”

“Wow it’s really beautiful. But also a little…I don’t know. Aren’t you a little skeeved out right now?

“Why would I be?”

“Don’t get me wrong it’s really cool here. I mean. Just. I don’t know…maybe old churches remind me of my mom too much. And she’s a fucking nutcase. But I don’t actually want to talk about her. Maybe it’s just being around all these graves and thinking about death and all that. Kind of sad and depressing as shit, don’t you think?”

Even doesn’t answer me. He keeps looking out into the skyline and I think maybe I’ve said something wrong.

“It’s really cool though. That you brought me here I mean. Thanks.” I give him a little nudge and he looks at me with a half smile.

“I don’t think it’s depressing actually," he says finally. "Kind of the opposite. What I _do_ think is depressing is that there’s a no smoking sign. Getting baked in a thousand year old grave yard has got to be way more fun than anywhere else.” He gives me a for-real smile this time.

“Wow. You’ve definitely got a dark and twisted side.”

We watch some more as the sun paints in broad watercolor gestures across the sky: swaths of blue blend to dusty pink to orange to yellow. I look down and see that the frost is steaming off the ground like a visible exhalation of breath in winter. And what the warm light is doing to Even’s face…well, I could try to describe it all fancy but what I mean to say is he’s glowing like a fucking angel. I almost can’t look at him because of the constricted feeling I get in my chest when I do. But I can’t help it, not looking at him at this point would be like asking me not to breathe or blink.

Even catches me staring at him and smiles. He reaches for me and wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close to him and kisses the top of my head. I’m a little embarrassed until I remember we are alone except for maybe hundreds of ghosts. And they could probably use the excitement anyway. I tilt my chin up to him and then he kisses me slowly and deeply. I close my eyes, breathe him in. I still almost can’t believe this is all happening. That I get to kiss him. That he lets me. That he wants to kiss me back. I rest my head into the crook of his shoulder while we wait for the sunrise to wrap its golden fingers over the city we both call home.

He says, “We’re right next to Vår Frelsers cemetery, you know? Do you want to walk through on the way back to your place? We don’t have to if you don’t want to. That’s where Munch and Ibsen and all the Norwegian elite are buried.”

“Umm…I’m actually getting pretty hungry? Is that bad that I’d rather eat than look at famous dead people?”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Most people need to eat and sleep to function, you know? We can’t all have superpowers like you.”

“Ok fine, let’s get you fed.”

“And after that maybe a nap?”

“Jeez you are demanding. And after that?”

“After that let’s never leave my room ever again.”

“Ok. Deal.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's the church view I based my descriptions off of](https://www.google.com/maps/place/Old+Aker+Church/@59.9237828,10.7468242,3a,60y,108.05h,80.69t/data=!3m8!1e1!3m6!1s-25Nufy1cmA0%2FVumjsPvPMuI%2FAAAAAAAAAUc%2Fkkp2ZrC6WgIyuZZFOZSg1TdJMaEEvoxLACJkC!2e4!3e11!6s%2F%2Flh4.googleusercontent.com%2F-25Nufy1cmA0%2FVumjsPvPMuI%2FAAAAAAAAAUc%2Fkkp2ZrC6WgIyuZZFOZSg1TdJMaEEvoxLACJkC%2Fw129-h106-k-no-pi0-ya356.9-ro-0-fo100%2F!7i6674!8i3232!4m5!3m4!1s0x0:0xdebd52940d27a023!8m2!3d59.9237134!4d10.7470239!6m1!1e1)
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> THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR READING AND COMMENTING!!!! <3 <3


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